


i just told ya im haunted! (be a catboy please)

by weeeklyboyz



Category: Professional Overwatch RPF
Genre: Fluff, Ghosts, Haunted House, I Will Rewrite It, Like so much, M/M, One Shot, Plotwist, he aint leaving until he see his favs boys in skirt, im not even in this fandom, overtime, should be doing chemistry, so much swearing, super loves skirts, super stans dont come for me, the ending is messy, they are in love, wrote this for one of my best friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27372190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weeeklyboyz/pseuds/weeeklyboyz
Summary: his feelings for them were like being ghosted. maybe anything was happening, but they were always there. getting into the smallest and dumbest things of his routine.weird things happen and super really, really wanna see them in skirts.
Relationships: sinatraa | Jay Won/super | Matthew DeLisi/rascal | kim dong-jun
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	i just told ya im haunted! (be a catboy please)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saturnrooms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnrooms/gifts).



> if you read this you did not

super was, at this point, losing his fucking mind.

look, he didn't "believe" in ghosts, alright? he didn't think your grandma was going to haunt you because you didn't wash her panties. like, if ghosts existed, awful things would happen all the time. they do anyways but WITH GHOSTS everything will be far, far worse.  
he wasn't going to say that at loud, though. who knew which ghost was going to get mad at him for denying their existence.

but weren't supernatural events daily things, anyways? zombies? sleepy was definitely one. white people? he was the living proof. heterosexuals? they existed (that's terrific, I know) somewhere, preying in the dark. poltergeists? ha! you aren't in a gameplay ligue, are you? haunted houses? you haven't played fucking overwatch with 10 more children. haunted houses were NOTHING compared to that.

you see? he wasn't superstitious, it was just that taking in count the measures of the issue it was nearly impossible to not get to ghouls answers.  
it started one fine day off, chilling in his cute pink skirt with a cute bluse and cuter socks, watching weki meki videos. nothing wrong or weird here. he loved wearing skirts and femboys! everyone should know that by now. that didn't have anything to do with the nerve wrecking events for sure, or that's what he thought, at the very least.

anyways, just vibing in the couch when mister Sinatra decides oopsie is a good song to interrupt to. he doesn't even spare a look at him; he could see him every other work day. right now, being a weme was essential.

"dude, i can't fucking find my fucking sweater, have you...?" a noise of something falling to the ground and then he can't hear jay. no sound. nothing. he looks where he was supposed to be, where he heard his voice.

sinatra's phone is there. sinatra's fucking gone.

\----

a week passes since then. super asked the other gamer boy about it, him knowing absolutely nothing. "w-what????? i didn't lose anything. i didn't know my phone was on the floor" was the only response he got.

okay.

okay, he could deal with this. weird things happened sometimes. it was life.  
he could have forgotten it if it wasn't for the rascal incident.

the _rascal incident_.

it happened really similar to jay, just odder. he was, once again, fucking chilling and working with a new skirt he got (which was the most comfortable so far, baby blue and cotton) trying to get that cash and studying between it. he heard stomps getting closer to his room. fuck, nothing to worry about. he had to calm the fuck down.  
then someone oppened his door.

fuck, fuck, fuck. okay. he could do this. not like he was going to see a poltergeist, am I right? right?

he turned his head and let a sigh of relieve at the sight of dongjun. he closed his eyes for a moment, getting his hand to his heart and breathing heavily.

"rascal, you scared the shit out of...!", yeah, no one finishes sentences in this fanfic, but he had his reasons. there was no one at the door.

he sprinted to the hallway but there was _no one_.

ran to dongjun's room and _no one_.

he then learned the boy was taking a peaceful shit and didn't wanna be bother (he also learnt he didn't like people interrupting him when he was shitting) and that.....fuck, how was that supposed to calm him down? he was going to lose his shit. fuck.

he was haunted. ghosts were real. everything was a lie. the government had hidden this secret for everyone but Matthias existed. he was going to be taken to supervision on a super secret mission. he didn't wanna do that, he hadn't got to convince any of the other boys to cosplay anime girls with him, he wasn't taking a step into the 51 area without having seen his favorite dudes wearing catboy outfits!

okay. okay, deep breathes. he needed to say goodbye to everything he knew. he was going to be haunted forever, so, before things get worse, he decided he was going to do what he most wanted in life.

and that was jay and dongjun on a motherfucking dress.

\----

he tried several times to get his gang into his outfits. like, for real "hey moth! I think this croptop would look brilliant on you" and then he would hear some fucking shitty answer like "sorry, I'm actually trying to do what we are supposed to do, you know, working." what the fuck? those guys were weird. he could do the fucking work while dressing up like the king moth was.

right now though wasn't a matter of "trying". he may see the boys for the very last time, and he wasn't going to be able to convince the whole team into getting into maid outfits. he had to go for _the_ boys. okay, it wasn't a mystery he had the biggest crush on dongjun and jay, not like he tried to hide it anyways. lying was tiring and getting rejected was exhausting so yeah, he just got the safe road of "not saying anything" but "not denying it either". his feelings for them were like being ghosted. maybe anything was happening, but they were always there. getting into the smallest and dumbest things of his routine.

he didn't think they would like him back, either way. two kings? he was aiming high.  
he didn't wanna feel that pain for the moment, thank you very much.

he was ready to risk it all now. he was ready to say everything that was needed before he was taken by Trump or aliens or spirits forever.

there they were, then. rascal, super and sinatra, all together in the same room. the second one had an exasperated look and his eyes were wide while speed talking, trying to get his point across as fast as possible.

"...so im fucking haunted and I don't know how much time I've left so you guys are going to wear those catboy outfits or I will have another crisis!" he finishes, breathing heavily.

there was an existential silence in the room.

"because I like you both and need to see you in skirts!" he added.

"IF YOU GUYS DON'T ANSWER ILL JUST GUESS Y'ALL ARE GHOULS TOO!"he screamed at the top of his lungs, hitting them with the skirts.

"matt! for fuck's sakes, wait a fucking minute I did not understand anything you said, I'm so so so confused and..."

"yeah, like, liking in which way? like kissing liking? like, both of us? and like, do I look like a catboy to you?"

"...and how is that going to mean you're haunted? you're taking things out of context, we had an explanation..."

"...we do!! right, jay?"

"yeah, just listen up...!" and then, once again, he couldn't finish his sentence. lights were turning off and on. they heard a loud stomp.

"what was that noise?" rascal asked, looking at the sides.

"I'm telling you, I'm haunted. can you get into your catboy outfits now?"

they looked to one another before speeding up and getting into the maid dresses, putting into some really cute cat ears and pink socks. matt was tearing up out of fear.

"can we hug...?" he said, in the smallest voice ever, and so they did. they hugged while it started storming so loud they couldn't hear their own voices and while lights went completely off. the door was suddenly open.  
someone was calling for him, telling him to ran. he wasn't listening, though. he felt himself fall to, which he supposed, were sinatra's arms while a lighting made the boys shine. their faces were worried.

he wanted them happy before he got into Trump's hands.

\-----

"sleepy you fucking little shit if you don't wash your mother fucking ancestors underwear again I'm fucking suing you and getting you out you made the mother fucking super UNCONSCIOUS"

"i didn't know my grandgrandfather was so salty about it!" he defended himself.

rascal rolled his eyes, slapping lightly matt's cheek. he arranged his maid outfit. he looked amazing, by the way.

super opened his eyes lazily, screaming as soon as he did.

"FUCK, DID ANYONE DIE?????"

"my dignity."

"my toxic masculity."

"my grand, grand father."

matthias was going to lose his shit again.

"about you liking us, can we date and forget about ghouls?"

"yeah, whatever"

**Author's Note:**

> im not gonna put my twt here super rascal sinatra dont read this please pretend you do not see


End file.
